


I'm Just a Kid (and Life is a Nightmare)

by setmeonfireplease



Category: X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Darwin didn't die cause no, Peter is a kid in this one, Protective Charles Xavier, Protective Erik Lehnsherr, bringing in some of my fav comic characters because I love them, neither did Banshee cause no, the teens are pretty much all the same age
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 06:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29538141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/setmeonfireplease/pseuds/setmeonfireplease
Summary: Peter is twelve years old when he's asked to break the president-killing, mutant terrorist, Erik Lehsnerr out of the Pentagon
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr and Peter Maximoff, Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier
Comments: 41
Kudos: 166





	1. Part One

Logan wasn’t particularly good at math, but in his defense, he didn’t need to be. He was a fighter, a soldier. Adding and subtracting wasn’t particularly high on his list of skills to master. Yet, as they were parked across the street of the Westview Halfway Home for Young Boys, he found himself suddenly wishing that he had studied a bit harder. 

“Logan, you didn’t mention that your . . . _guy_ was a child,” Charles said, eyeing the sign in front of the beaten down, wooden, two-story house through the passenger side window of his car. In the patchy lawn, several young boys played a game of football. 

“Didn’t realize he’d be so young,” Logan grunted.

“Professor, we can’t have a child break into the Pentagon,” Hank said, leaning forward from the backseat as he spoke. His glasses hung off the bridge of his nose. “That’s a clear case of child endangerment.” 

Logan knew he was right. He did, really. He wasn’t a fan of the way half the X men were made up of teenagers with a loose grip on their abilities. He hated the way Charles sent them off into battle so easily. And moreover, he knew what Erik would say - what he would _do_ to him when he eventually found out that he used his child son as a tool to break him out of the most secure prison in the world. But the Peter he knew in the future was long dead, murdered by a Sentinel in front of his eyes. Erik would have to see the logic in this at some point. The city he leveled as he watched his son die would thank him. 

“Got any better ideas?” Logan asked, arching an eyebrow. The other two stayed silent, Hank frowning as Charles sighed and unbuckled his seatbelt. 

“Unfortunately, I do not,” He muttered as he got out. Hank gaped at him.

“Professor! You can’t be serious! There are kids as young as eight in there!” Hank said as he jumped out the car. Logan groaned before following. 

“Look,” He said as he walked around his car to join them. “In my time, Peter’s dead. Being a fugitive is better than being dead right?”

Logan took the tense silence that followed as the two men agreeing. He could only assume Erik would agree as well.

Charles walked across the street, into the lawn, and up the front steeps to the porch. Hank and Logan followed, just steps behind. On the porch sat a burly, balding man smoking a cigarette in a rocking chair. On the arm of the chair was a glass of what Logan hoped was lemonade, but knew was whiskey. 

“The hell do you three want?” He asked, his voice gruff. 

“Hello sir,” Charles said, attempting to put on his most charming smile. With his stubble and greasy hair, it came off more as smarmy. He dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out his brown leather wallet. He flipped it open and took out a wrinkled business card, holding it towards the man. “I’m the dean of Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. My name is Professor Charles Xavier. I was hoping to speak to one of your wards today.”

The man regarded the card with a look of suspicion before plucking it out of Charles’ hand. He stared at it for a moment, before looking back up at them.

“Hate to disappoint, but there aren’t no _gifted youngsters_ here,” The man said before tossing the card back at Charles. It fluttered to the floor. Charles clenched his jaw before picking it up. He returned it back to its slot, before slipping the wallet into his pocket.

“We would like to speak to Peter Maximoff. We spoke to his mother already. She knew we’d be coming.”

The man barked out a laugh that made Logan want to deck him.

“Maximoff? The only thing he’s gifted in is trouble. The kid’s a little thief. You don’t want him at your fancy school,” He said after he collected himself.

“Can we please just speak to him,” Charles said carefully, trying to hide his irritation. The man stared at him as though he were the stupidest person to walk the planet. He sighed before heaving himself out of the rocking chair, flicking his cigarette into the lawn. A boy ran over it as he before tackling a slightly taller boy holding the football. 

“Alright, suit yourself,” He said as he began to walk into the house. The door was left open. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. The kid’s a freak.”

Hank, Logan, and Charles exchanged looks before following. As they walked up the creaky stairs, Logan took in the countless other boys running wild around the house. Though the house was large, he could already tell there were more boys than rooms. Beds too, probably. He didn’t need to be a mathematician to figure that out. The faded wallpaper was peeling off, a window at the top of the staircase was shattered. 

“Maximoff did that earlier this morning,” The man said, motioning the to broken window. “It’s how he ended up in there.”

The man pointed to a small door in the hallway. It was skinner than the other doors that lined it. _It’s a fucking closet,_ Logan thought. _They locked him in a closet._

“You put him in there?” Hank asked, voice shrill with horror. 

The man gave him an affronted look. “It’s the only way we can keep the kid in one place. It locks from the outside. Took out the doorknob from the inside too. No windows either. No way out. The kid’s a runner. You’ll see what I mean.”

Charles was trying to school his expression, and failing miserably. His disgust rang clear. Logan could feel his hands curl into fists at his side, and it took all his willpower to keep his claws from poking out. 

“Can you please let him out? We’d like to speak to him,” Charles said in the politest tone he could muster. The man shrugged before grabbing the keyring that hung off one of his jeans belt loops. He unlocked the door, swinging it open to reveal a short, scrawny, silver-haired boy handcuffed to the railing of a rack stacked with cleaning supplies. He stared at them with owlish eyes.

“Can I come out now? I’m about to piss myself,” Peter said. “You haven’t let me use the bathroom all day.”

“Bathroom privileges aren’t for destructive little brats like you,” The man said. 

Logan wondered how badly it would affect the future if he murdered the man in front of him. It’d probably be better off right? Charles grabbed at his slowly raising fist, and Logan figured it must not have taken a telepath to read his mind.

“Are the handcuffs really necessary?” Charles bit out between gritted teeth. 

“Woah who’s the British dude?” Peter asked. “Is the accent real, or are you an actor or some shit?”

“What the fuck did I tell you about cursing?” The man barked, and Peter shrunk into himself.

“Professor, I think I’m going to wait in the car,” Hank said under his breath. Logan glanced at him. He was shaking, and the blue tint to his pale skin was becoming more and more clear. Charles nodded as Logan held out his keys. Hank snatched them out of his hand before hurrying down the stairs and out the front door. 

Charles turned his attention back to the man. “I’d like for you to uncuff him and call his mother if you don’t mind. I want to confirm with her that it’s alright that we take him.”

“Take me? Take me where?” Peter asked, frowning. 

The man gaped at Charles, ignoring Peter altogether. “You want this freak? He’s a little shit. You’re gonna regret it the moment you get him into the car.”

“Uncuff the kid, bub,” Logan said. He didn’t care about niceties the way the professor did. If it wasn’t for Charles’ iron grip on his wrist anchoring him, and the knowledge that murdering this man might destabilize him enough to send his mind right back to the future, he would have skewered him without a second thought. The man glared at him before turning. He walked into the closet, which was only a few feet deep. He uncuffed Peter, who sped past him. Before Logan could even blink, Peter was standing beside him.

“Stop doing that!” The man shouted. He was getting red in the face.

Peter gave him a wide-eyed look of innocence. “Doing what?”

The man began to march forward, large hands curled into fists. Peter took a step back, any impish attitude fading away immediately. He was paling considerably. Logan held out his hand, pushing the man back by his chest.

“Call his mom,” Logan ordered. The man glowered, huffing as he turned and began to stomp down the stairs. Logan and Charles turned to Peter. He was so short. He was too skinny. The Peter he knew was tall and wiry, muscles clear on his thin frame. 

“You don’t care about hiding your powers?” Charles asked.

“Powers?” Peter asked, arching an eyebrow. “What powers? There’s nothing going on here that anybody can prove. Nothing anybody would believe if you told them.”

“It’s ok, Peter. We’re the same as you,” Charles said.

“You are?” Peter asked suspiciously. Charles nodded, before giving Logan a look. He sighed, before glancing around. The hall was void of any other people. Logan could hear the man on the phone downstairs. He lifted up his fist and allowed his claws to break through his skin fully before retracting them.

Peter scrunched up his nose. “Gross. Cool, but gross.”

“Peter, we would like to take you with us. We need your help with something,” Charles said.

“Help? With what?”

“We need you to break someone out of prison,” Logan said.

  
“A prison break,” Peter smirked. “That’s illegal, you know?”

Logan gave him a blank look. Even as an adult, fighting the good fight, legal and illegal were just words that had no meaning to Peter. 

“What’s in it for me?” Peter asked after a moment.

“You, you little klepto, get to break into the Pentagon,” Charles said, pinching the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t believe he was asking a child to do this.

Peter’s eyes widened before a big, genuine grin broke out onto his face. He disappeared for a second, before reappearing with a duffle bag hanging off his shoulder. “Let’s go!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment if you have the chance and I hope you all have a wonderful day!


	2. Part Two

After Charles and Peter spoke to his mother on the phone, Charles assuring his mother that he would receive the best education and care completely free of cost and Peter assuring his mom that he _totally_ wanted to go, they were finally on the road. Hank had calmed down considerably and was badgering Peter with questions about his mutation. 

“So if you’re so fast, why would you let that man lock you in that closet?” Hank asked. Logan shot him a look through the rearview mirror, but his curious gaze was so focused on Peter he didn’t even notice.

Peter shrugged. “I didn’t at first. I ran away, but my mom told me to go back. I figured if I waited long enough, she’d ask me to come home.”

“How long have you been there, Peter?”

Peter frowned. “Time’s kinda fuzzy for me. What month is it?”

“January,” Hank said, staring at Peter as though he were the most interesting science experiment he’d seen in his life.

“Oh. So uh . . . a year,” He said, staring out the window. Any sense of his typical humor was gone completely. It didn’t last long, however. He turned to look at Logan, the fire in his eye having returned. “Can I just run there? This car is too slow.”

“No,” Logan said. 

“Your mother trusted us with your care. I would prefer to know where you are,” Charles said.

“My mom’s not the best judge of character. How do I know you’re not gonna let four-eyes over here experiment on me or some shit? It’s not the first time someone’s tried to let my mom do that, ya know?”

Hank gave him an affronted look. “Peter, I would never run an experiment on you without your permission.”

“He won’t be running any experiments on you at all,” Logan said, giving Hank a look of warning in the rearview window. None of his little ideas ended well for him in the future. They usually ended with Erik attempting to strangle him to death. 

The rest of the car ride was spent discussing various versions plans, Peter begging Logan to stop at every fast food joint they passed, and Logan simultaneously grateful to see the kid alive and trying not to wring his neck out. 

Logan drove all the way through until they got to the hotel in D.C. It wasn’t a particularly long drive, just made to feel that way by Peter’s incessant chatter. If he thought that Peter had a motormouth as an adult, it was nothing compared to him as a child.

As they got out the car, Charles asked Peter to abstain from using his power. “This hotel has a security system, with cameras. It’s best not to draw any attention to ourselves.”

“It’s hard not to get attention when you got silver hair,” Peter said, grabbing his bag out the trunk. 

As it turns out, he wasn’t exaggerating. As they walked through the lobby, Logan could feel people’s eyes following them.

“What the hell is wrong with that kid? You think he’s sick?” A man said to the woman beside him.

“I just hope they didn’t let him dye his hair that awful color,” The woman said in response.

If it bothered Peter, it didn’t show. If he hadn’t made that comment earlier, Logan would have believed that he never even noticed the looks and comments thrown his way. As Charles checked them in at the front desk, the concierge’s eyes kept drifting to Peter, who had pulled out a walkman and had his headphones on. Charles finished checking them in and they followed him into the elevator. The ride up to their floor was silent with the exception of the elevator music. Peter’s eyes widened the higher they got. When they reached their floor, they followed Charles to their suite. Peter ripped off his headphones as they walked in.

“So you’re like, rich?” He asked, looking around the expansive suite. He disappeared for a second before reappearing. “The beds are huge!”

Charles chuckled. “I wouldn’t say rich -”

“He’s lying. He’s fucking loaded,” Logan said, earning a dirty look from Charles. Peter gaped at them.

“Dude that’s so cool! Did you steal all your money?”

“What?” Charles asked, startled. “No! Peter, stealing isn’t ok.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You sound like the cops. I’m gonna go pick my bed!” 

He disappeared once more, and judging from the creaking that began to fill the suite, Logan could only assume he was jumping on the bed. Charles looked at Logan.

“I’m really beginning to doubt your choice in company, Logan,” He said.

“I hang out with you in the future, don’t I?” Logan said as he walked over the bar. The suite really was huge, complete with it’s own kitchen, bar, and living area, as well as a room for each person. It always amazed Logan how the Professor never seemed to lack money. He reached down into the fridge, grinning when he found it fully loaded with beer. He pulled out a Guinness before cutting off the top with his claws.

“So you say,” Charles said as he followed. He began to reach for his own drink before Logan batted his hand away.

“I’ve seen you drink before. You got a shit tolerance. Can you at least stay sober until this is over?” He asked. Charles shot him another dirty look before relenting. He walked around the bar and sat at one of the wooden stools that lined it. Hank joined him. 

They began to discuss their plans, the one they kept circling back to the one Logan disliked the most.

“He’s twelve. He looks twelve. How exactly is he supposed to pose as a guard?” He asked, taking another swig from his beer.

“I get to pose as a guard?” Peter asked as he appeared in the seat next to Hank. Hank jumped, putting a hand over his chest.

“My God!” Hank cried. He looked at Peter. “A little warning next time?”

Peter gave him an apologetic look that felt a little hollow. He looked back at Logan. “So I get to pose as a guard?”

“No, because there’s no way anyone in the fucking world is going to believe you’re old enough,” Logan said.

“Well, all the guards wear hats. With a little makeup, I think we could just make it seem like he just _looks_ young,” Hank said.

Peter scrunched up his nose. “Makeup? Like, for girls?”

“Male actors wear makeup too, Peter,” Hank said.

“I find that hard to believe - are you guys gonna feed me?” Peter asked. As he spoke, his stomach let out a loud rumble. “See? Starving. You guys are starving me.”

“There’s a phone in each of the rooms. Order room service for yourself. Whatever you want,” Charles said. Peter grinned before disappearing once more. Charles sighed. “Why do I get the feeling that I’m going to regret that?” 

“We can’t use him as a guard,” Logan said.

“Who else should we use then?” Charles asked.

“Me.”

“None of us are going to be fast enough to get into the elevator with the guard. Even if you are, will you be able to overpower him and change into his uniform before the elevator reaches the floor Erik is on? And honestly, I doubt your claws are going to be able to break the glass shield they keep him in,” Hank said. “No offense. You seem pretty capable, but this isn’t a job you’re going to be able to complete.”

“So we’ll brute force it!” Logan said.

“Right, and then we’ll have a hundred guards pointing their guns at us before we even make it to the elevator,” Hank scoffed. 

“So, Logan,” Charles asked, arching an eyebrow. “Got any better ideas?”

Logan glared at him, debating whether he should punch him or not for throwing his line back in his face. He gripped his beer bottle with white knuckles before chugging the rest of it. He cleared his throat as he finished. “No, I don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there! Sorry this chapter is so short but don't worry, I'm almost done with the third chapter so I decided to go ahead and post this one so I don't keep anyone waiting any longer. Thank you so so much for reading! Please leave a comment if you have the time. I hope you all have a wonderful day!


	3. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying not to rush through updates and keep a steady schedule but since the last chapter was so short, I thought it was only fair that I release the next one a little quicker. Hope you guys enjoy!

Peter was giddy. He couldn’t contain his cheek hurting grin as he followed the tour group into the Pentagon. His face felt a little weird with all the makeup Hank painted on him, but even he had to admit he looked older with it. He looked cool, mature. He wondered if he would look like this when he got older. God, that would be awesome. 

“Stop smiling!” Logan hissed.

“Adults aren’t allowed to smile anymore?” Peter asked.

“Kid, you look fifteen at best,” He answered. Peter glared at him.  _ Killjoy, _ he thought. As he walked down the hall, he tried to listen to the tour guide’s lecture but holy shit was it boring. He felt like he was in school. Instead, he studied the guards. He raised his shoulders, walking as tall as he could. He schooled his face into a serious expression, mimicking theirs. 

“These guys are so badass!” Peter couldn’t help but whisper. “They have guns!”

“Guns aren’t cool,” Charles said. “They’re dangerous.”

“Maybe to slowpokes like you guys. I’m faster than any bullet,” Peter said, keeping his voice low. The look on Charles’ face was impossible to decipher. He shrugged it off, deciding that he was probably thinking something boring like  _ Guns are bad and dangerous and stealing is entirely immoral blah blah blah _ . He wondered how a guy like him was planning a prison break.

It was time for them to break off, so Peter sped ahead of Logan and Charles, following the halls that they showed him on the map. He really wanted to look around, maybe steal one of those guns and play with some of the computers they had but he resisted the temptation. Honestly, he should get an award for that. He found the elevator he was supposed to enter and saw the guard already stepping into it. He followed, putting himself behind the guard. As the reflective doors shut, Peter could see himself, and honestly was he really  _ that _ short? It seemed like an exaggeration, really. He was going to assume these were funhouse mirrors for the sake of his self-esteem. 

The guard spun around with a gasp, having noticed Peter’s reflection behind him. Peter grinned, pulling out his duct tape. It took 3.5 seconds for him to tape the man to the wall and get changed, but in his defense, he wanted to make sure the guy wouldn’t be able to get out or make a noise. It was probably overkill, but it was better than not being prepared. He toyed with the hat, pulling it down over his face to hide his eyes. Logan kept saying his eyes were a dead giveaway.  _ They look young. He has the eyes of a kid _ , he had said. Whatever the fuck that meant. 

As the elevator dinged, signaling that he had reached the floor Magneto was on, he picked up the tray of food. The elevator door slid open, revealing a single guard standing by the opening. Peter kept his head low as he walked down the hall.

“Hey!” The guard called. Peter froze. His already fast heart began to pound. He turned slowly, praying the guard couldn’t hear it. His mom always told him when he got nervous she could literally hear his heart. Wanda had made some reference to some Edgar Allen Poe story but he couldn’t remember the name.

“Yeah?” He asked, trying to pitch his voice lower.

“How old are you?” The guard asked, frowning quizzically.

“Twenty-four,” Peter said immediately. That was what they told him to say. 

“Jesus,” The guard said. “You don’t look it at all.”

“Yeah,” Peter chuckled. “You should see me try to buy beer.”

The guard titled his head back and laughed. “You’ll be grateful in a few decades, trust me!”

Peter laughed too. “Yeah, that’s what everyone tells me.”

“You should switch out your uniform for a smaller one, it hangs off you,” The guard said.

“Yeah, you’re telling me. My girl laughed till she cried when she saw me try it on. I’ve been trying to switch it out but you know how it is,” Peter said, rolling his eyes. The guard nodded in sympathy.

“Trust me, you’re preaching to the choir here. I got years in this place and it’s never not been a pain in the ass,” The guard said. “Well, you better get in there. That’s not the type of guy you want to keep waiting.”

Peter nodded. He turned around and continued down the hall.  _ See Mom. Me getting arrested all those times was a good thing. I’m so good at lying to cops holy shit. _

As he reached the door, the guard pressed a button and it slid open. As Peter walked in, it slid closed behind him. Despite himself, his steps were slow. In front of him, the floor was made of glass. He walked around the edge, looking down into it. A tall, muscular man in all white laid in a twin-size bed. He didn’t spare Peter a glance. He couldn’t help but feel a little bad for him. If he had to sit in an all-white room all day with nothing to do, he’d be certifiably insane within a week. 

He made his way to the hole in the glass, got on his knees, and slid the tray in. It slid down the tube and landed beside the bed. The man sat up, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He picked up the tray, frowning as he read the note Peter stuck on top.

He looked up at Peter, who was peering into the fishbowl this man called home. He smiled and waved before getting on his knees and pressing his hand to the glass. His hands began to vibrate, causing the glass to shake. His smile grew. The man’s eyes widened, and right as the glass shattered he bent over, tucking his head into his chest and shielding his face with his arms. The door slid shut, red lights flashing as alarms began to blare. As the last of the glass hit the ground, the man stood up straight. He jumped, his large hands wrapping around the concrete support beams. He pulled himself up, walking across one of the thick beams to the edge of the glass.

“In thirty seconds those doors will open,” The man said. His accent was a strange acclimation of several, making it difficult for Peter to place where he could possibly be from. “And twenty guards will be here to shoot us.”

Peter sped forward, his hat flying off and his hair falling down around his neck and face. He stopped next to the man, reaching his hand up and placing it behind his neck. The man side-eyed him.

“I know,” Peter said. “That’s what I’m waiting for.”

“What are you doing?” The man asked tersely.

“I’m holding your neck so you don’t get whiplash,” Peter said.

“What?”

“Whiiiiip laaaaaaaash,” Peter said, dragging the words out. Did this guy not speak English?

The man opened his mouth to speak once more, but before he could say anything the door slid open once more. The guards began to pour in, guns pointed.  _ Time to go _ , Peter thought. He began to run, going slower than he normally would do the dead weight that doubled him in size. As he ran, the guards went flying into the air due to the force of his speed which boosted his ego  _ only _ a little. Peter slid to a stop as they reached the elevator, the glass, reflective door sliding shut behind them. He let go of the man, who stumbled forward and held himself against the wall, pressing his forward against the cool glass. His chest was heaving, his skin paler than Peter’s already milky white skin.

The guard was still taped to the wall. He was staring at Peter and the man with wide, horrified eyes. Peter changed as quick as he could, sighing as he slid his goggles onto his head. They were a gift from his mom after his mutation developed and were one of the few things he took good care of. He looked at the man. He was in the same position. He stepped towards him. 

“You’re good. It’ll pass,” Peter said. “It happens with everyone.”

The man nodded and continued to press his head against the wall. 

“You must have done something pretty serious,” Peter said, unable to stop himself. Charles had told him not to talk to the man, but Peter was one curious cat. At least, that’s what his mom always said. She said it like it was a bad thing, which Peter didn’t see how. Cats were cute and cool and all his science teachers had said curiosity was the backbone of scientific exploration or some shit. “What’d you do?”

The man didn’t answer. That didn’t deter Peter. It rarely did.

“Come on man! What’d you do?” Peter asked. “What’d you do? What’d you doooo? Why’d they have you in there?”

“For killing the president,” The man said. Peter’s eyes widened. He turned to look at the taped-up guard, mouthing  _ Woah _ at him. The guard rolled his eyes. “The only thing I’m guilty of is for fighting for people like us.”

Peter nodded, though he wasn’t really sure what he meant. “So you take Karate? You know karate man?”

“I don’t know Karate, but I do know crazy.”

Peter chuckled. “You’re funny. Way funnier than that British guy.”

The man froze. He turned to look at Peter with wide eyes, standing up straight. His color was finally returning. 

“British guy?” He asked. 

Peter nodded. “Yeah, some British guy named Charles and his two buddies Hank and Logan. They picked me up from the halfway home and asked me to help them break you out.”

“ _ Charles _ asked  _ you _ to break me out?” The man asked, eyeing Peter suspiciously. His eyes widened once more. “You’re a kid.”

“Good catch, Captain Obvious.”

“Charles did not send you. He would never send a child into such a dangerous situation.”

“So we know two different English guys named Charles with a shit load of money and his own school for gifted youngsters?”   


“Highly unlikely,” The man agreed. “I find it even more unlikely that Charles would ever put you in such a position, however.”

“Hey man,” Peter said. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve already been to jail - well, juvie. Twice, actually. Three times if you count the home.” 

The man didn’t answer, but his expression had soured considerably. Peter assumed it was because of the whole juvie thing. People tended to really hate that about him. It wasn’t Peter’s fault stealing stuff was so fun and he was fast enough to get away with it - well, get away with it most of the time, anyway. They fell into a tense silence that made Peter’s skin crawl.

“You know,” Peter began. “They said that you can control metal.”

“Charles told you that?”

“Hey! My mom once knew a guy who could do that!”

The man didn’t react, simply turned around as the elevator dinged. Peter stopped, his last comment sending his thoughts flying a million miles per minute. Now, Peter knew he wasn’t the world’s smartest kid by any means, but it didn’t take Sherlock fucking Holmes to put two and two together. He whipped around, opening his mouth to speak. What he would say he wasn’t sure.

_ Hey, did you know a Magda Maximoff? Tall lady, red hair, looks real pretty and real tired and like she always wants to kick my ass? _

_ Were you in Sokovia in the early ’60s? Did you have a wife and a super cool stepdaughter named Wanda? _

_ Did you bone my mom? _

_ Dude, I think you might be my long-lost dad that my mom hates talking about! _

Despite his overabundance of fantastic talking point options, he never got to say a single one. The elevator doors slid open, and before anyone could say anything Charles punched the man dead in the face. Peter pressed himself up against the wall of the elevator, next to the taped-up guard.

“Good to see you too old friend,” The man said from the ground. “And walking?”

“No thanks to you,” Charles said.

The man got up, holding his chin gingerly. “You’re the last person I expected to ever see again.”

“Trust me,” Charles said. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have to. If we get you out of here we do it my way - no killing.”

Erik smirked humorously, motioning to his head with both hands. “No helmet. I couldn’t disobey you if I wanted to.”

“I’m never getting inside that head of yours again,” Charles said lowly. Peter looked at the taped-up guard beside him, frowning in confusion. The guard looked just as lost as he did, so Peter didn’t feel like a total moron. “I need your word, Erik.”

_ Erik, _ Peter thought.  _ So that’s my dad’s name. Huh. Kinda lame. I was hoping it’d be something cool like Rage or Blade the Destroyer.  _

The doors to the kitchen slammed open, and in poured more guards. Their guns were pointed directly at them. Peter’s eyes widened.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment if you have the time. I hope you all have a wonderful day!


	4. Part Four

Peter saved the day in a totally awesome, badass way and his reward for it was to be stuffed between four eyes and his dad who didn’t know he was dad in the stuffy backseat of Logan’s car. At least Charles got him a shit ton of food as a thank you. Hank was completely amazed by his story of heroic triumph and had asked him to retell it three times now, which Peter was more than happy to do. Partially because he felt so, so,  _ so _ cool telling it, and partially because it filled the otherwise tense silence of the car. Peter really hated silence. 

As he retold the story, Hank scribbled away in a little notebook he kept in the pocket of his slacks. 

“You’re not going to let Hank run experiments on this child, are you?” Erik asked.

“It’s none of your business,” Charles snapped, not even looking back.

“My business is the safety of mutants, especially child mutants,” Erik said. “You already endangered him by having him break into the Pentagon -”

“The Pentagon that  _ you _ got yourself imprisoned in! If you hadn’t been such a bloody terrorist we would have never had to use a child to break you out!”

“You shouldn’t have used him at all!” Erik said.

“If I could have left you in there to rot, I would have,” Charles said. “I already explained the circumstances to you. These are dire times.” 

“Hey man,” Peter said with a mouth full of burger. “I’m fine. This is the coolest thing I’ve ever done.”

Erik ignored him. “Do his parents even know where he is?”

Charles didn’t answer. He stared out the window at the passing cars. 

_ Well, one of them thinks I’m in a new school. And one of them is sitting right next to me,  _ Peter thought. He slowed his chewing, struggling to swallow what was in his mouth. He wrapped the half-eaten burger back up, suddenly losing his appetite.

“Are you not hungry anymore? Why?” Hank asked, peering over his glasses at Peter. Erik glared at him. “You seem to eat a lot, even when you haven’t expelled much energy.”

“He’s not a lab rat Hank!” Erik snapped. 

“It’s cool. Uh . . . I don’t know. Just not hungry,” Peter said, shrugging. The car was already full of explosive energy. Charles and Erik clearly hated each other, for whatever reason. He didn’t think it would be a good idea to suddenly reveal that he thought Erik might be his dad, especially when he was clearly so upset about him being the one to break him out of prison. He wondered if Erik knew he had a son. He probably didn’t care. He seemed a little busy, killing presidents and all. 

The car fell into silence again, and Peter pulled out his walkman and put on his headphones, sighing in relief as music began to play. No one spoke for the entire car ride to the airport, which Peter was shocked to find out only took an hour. It felt like three days, in his opinion. 

“You have a private jet?” Peter asked in shock as he hopped out the car. He ran around the plane, stopping in front of Charles. “Logan was right! You  _ are  _ loaded! Are you sure you didn’t steal it?”

“No, Peter,” Charles said. “I did not steal it. What is your fascination with stealing?”

“It’s fun,” Peter said, waving his hand dismissively. “Whatever. So were you like, born rich?”

Charles’ face began to heat up. Peter gaped at him.

“You totally were!” Peter shouted. “And you’re an only child too? So all that money is yours?”

Charles shook his head. “No, I have a sister. That’s who we are trying to save.”

“Oh,” Peter said. “That’s cool. I’d go through all this trouble for my sisters too.”

“You have sisters?” Hank asked as he grabbed his bag out of the trunk. He handed Peter his duffle bag, who slung it over his shoulder. Peter nodded. “Are they mutants too?”

“Nah, just me. We all have different dads’. Mine was a mutant, theirs weren’t. We always figured I got my powers from him.”

“Your father was a mutant?” Erik asked curiously. He was still in the all-white uniform of the prison. “Was he fast like you?”

Peter felt his heart rate pick up again. He shook his head. “No. No. He wasn’t.”

He sped up the steps of the plane, not wanting to answer any more questions. Logan followed, leaving the men behind to grab the rest of their bags.

“Kid,” He said, sitting in front of Peter. “Does Erik not know he’s your dad?”

Peter gaped at him. “You know?”

“I’m from the future,” Logan reminded him. 

“Oh, yeah,” Peter said. “Nah, he doesn’t. I didn’t even realize he was my dad until I remembered you guys said he could control metal. My mom said my dad could do that.”

“I just figured he always knew,” Logan said. “You guys were pretty close in my time.”

“We are?” Peter asked. He couldn’t picture being close to someone like Erik. “Wait!  _ Were _ ? Holy shit am I dead in the future?”

Before Logan could answer, the others walked in. Logan looked at them before looking back at Peter.

“Don’t worry about it, kid,” he said. “If everything goes right, you’ll be fine.”

He got up and moved to another seat. Peter looked at Charles and Erik, who were arguing once more. He didn’t feel reassured. 

…………….

Peter couldn’t stand it anymore. The plane was far too small and the flight was taking way too long. He kept pacing up and down the walkway, his body giving way to random twitches. 

“You ok there, kid?” Logan asked from his seat. Peter shook his head, running a shaking hand through his hair.

“It’s really hard to sit still for so long,” Peter said as he reached the end of the walkway, before turning on his heels and walking the other way. It was partially true. Being so close to Erik was giving him far too much anxiety, which only made matters worse. “I can’t wait 'till we get to Paris and finally see some action.”

“You won’t be seeing any action, Peter,” Charles said from his seat near the front of the jet. Peter paused.

“What?” He asked. “No! You saw how cool I was back there! I totally saved your guys’ life! You  _ need _ me!”

“You were a great help,” Charles said placatingly. Peter gritted his teeth. He knew he was a child, but he hated being spoken to like one. “But I cannot continue to endanger you.”

“Finally,” Erik scoffed. “Some common sense.”

Charles whipped his head around, his glare vicious. “You, of all people, are not going to talk to me about common sense.”

“I’m not the one who miraculously lost my powers,” Erik said.

“It wasn’t miraculous at all,” Charles snapped. “The treatment for my spine affects my DNA.”

Erik fell silent for a moment, and not even Peter could miss the look of guilt that overtook his expression. “You sacrificed your powers so you could walk?”

“You can’t walk?” Peter asked. “Wait! You have powers?”

Charles looked at Peter, and though his expression wasn’t as harsh, it wasn’t particularly kind either.

“I  _ had _ powers,” He said. He looked back at Erik, the look on his face hardening once more. “I didn’t sacrifice them so I could walk. I sacrificed them so I could sleep.”

Peter was beginning to get that skin-crawling feeling again. He hated the tension that followed these two around like a shadow. It made the jet feel like a ticking time bomb, reminding him of the home. It was as though he were going to make one wrong move and end up locked in a closet again - or worse. 

“But what would you know about that?” Charles asked, venom in his voice.

“Kid, over here,” Logan called. “Now.”

Peter wasn’t normally one to take orders, but he found himself walking backward and falling into the seat across the aisle from Logan without a second thought. He wanted to be as far away from those two as possible. Erik’s gaze followed him before he looked back at Charles.

“I’ve lost my fair share,” Erik said.

“Ah,” Charles said, before shaking his head. “Dry your eyes, Erik. It doesn’t justify what you’ve done.”

“You have no idea what I’ve done,” Erik said.

“I know you took the things that mean the most to me.”

“Well, maybe you should have fought harder for them.”

Peter couldn’t help the quiet gasp that escaped him. Was his dad always this much of a dick?

“If you want a fight Erik,” Charles said, throwing the napkin off his lap and onto the table. “I will give you a fight!”

He stood up, and Erik followed.

“Sit down!” Logan ordered. Peter tucked himself against the wall of the plane. He was beginning to shake, which was never good. He tried stilling his body. If he let his trembling get too fast, something would break and he really didn’t want it to be the window beside him.

“Let him come,” Erik said.

“You abandoned me!” Charles screamed, throwing himself at Erik. He slammed his fists against his chest before grabbing his shirt in his hands. “You took her away and you abandoned me!”   


Erik didn’t even flinch, meanwhile, Peter’s thoughts had been reduced to a rapid  _ Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuckwhathefuck _ .

“Angel,” Erik said. “Azazel. Emma. Banshee.”

As he spoke, the plane began to shake. Peter gave an embarrassing squeak of panic as the walls of the plane began to crumple behind his back. Logan’s eyes were wide as he looked around. He jumped up, grabbing Peter by the arm and pulling him tight against him as they both fell to their knees. With one arm he kept an iron grip around Peter’s frail body, and the other he held onto the seat he had been previously sitting in in an attempt to keep them steady. Peter wrapped his arms around Logan, hiding his face in his chest. He hated feeling like a coward, but his terror kept him from moving. He didn’t want to die. He wanted to see Wanda graduate from college, and Wendy go to middle school. He wanted to see his mom one more time. He missed her. He missed them all. He didn’t want to die before he could hug them one last time.

“Mutant brothers and sisters all dead!” Erik yelled. The plane began to tilt to the side. Peter’s grip on Logan only tightened, his eyes flooding with hot tears.

“Countless others experimented on! Butchered!” Erik continued. “Where were you Charles? We were supposed to protect them!” 

Peter peeked an eye open, only to see Charles fly to the side of the plane, landing partially on the white leather couch and the wall. Erik was standing perfectly still, as though the rapid shaking and tilting of the plane didn’t affect him at all. The glasses and plates of food that were littered around the jet flew around, shattering as they made impact with something. Peter screwed his eyes shut once more, though he didn’t know if it was to stop the tears streaming down his face or from fear.

“Where were you when your own people needed you?” Erik shouted. “Hiding! You and Hank! Pretending to be something you’re not!”

“Erik!” Hank yelled from the pilot's cabin. 

“You abandoned us all!” Erik continued, ignoring Hank. 

An ear-piercing scream filled the plane. It took Peter a second to realize it had come from him. It had escaped his mouth as a glass cup made impact with his head, shattering against his skull.

Suddenly, the shaking stopped. The plane began to level out, and Peter wasn’t sure if the hot liquid on his face was tears or blood. He opened his eyes, finding everyone staring at him. Logan still hadn’t let him go.

“Peter -” Erik began.

“What’s that noise?” Hank said suddenly, cutting Erik off. A loud, heavy, rapid thumping was audible throughout the entire jet.

“My heart,” Peter said, pushing himself off of Logan and out of his slowly loosening grip and running straight into the bathroom. The door slammed behind him. 

He fell to his knees, and before he vomited, he could hear Logan’s muffled voice say “So you were always an asshole.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment if you have the chance. I hope you all have a wonderful day!


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